La Souris, le Tigre, et le Renard
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: The one person that Sarah truly wants is the one person out of her reach. Or, at least, that's what she thinks.


Working in the ARC was going to be her downfall, she just knew it. Sarah had never been around so many attractive, well-fit, virile, _lickable_ men in her entire life. God, the bloody soldiers walking around this place were enough to drive a girl completely crackers. But the one man that was driving _her_ crackers wasn't a soldier at all:

Professor Nick Cutter.

It hardly made any sense. She didn't do girlish crushes or pining over a man, but in the past six weeks, her dreams had been populated with images of pale hair and blue eyes, rough bricklayer hands and a thick Scottish burr. She could barely focus at work because the constant proximity was driving her to distraction. He smelt so good. Always. He didn't wear cologne or aftershave, but he always smelt good, like woodsmoke, spices, and old paper. She didn't know why it was, but it was always the way he _smelt_ that got her going more than anything.

And what made it worse was that it was never going to happen. Cutter was with Jenny. Sarah knew she was fairly attractive, but nowhere near pretty enough to hold a candle to Jenny, who could walk in wearing jeans and a t-shirt and still look like she was ready for tea with the Queen.

It didn't make it any easier, though.

* * *

She was about to go running out of the room. Seriously, she was. Cutter was standing so close to her, near enough that she could feel the heat of his body, that smell of woodsmoke and spices making her dizzy. She had only asked him to look over a few new figures for the model; she hadn't expected him to stand directly over her, leaning forward to look at her notes. Sarah was staring hard at the pages, heart in her throat. "And you checked all of these? Made sure they're all correct?" Cutter asked, and a light, delicate shiver ran across her skin at the low rumble of his Scottish burr in her ear. She could feel his breath stirring her hair, he was so near.

"Yep," she asked, aiming for nonchalant but still sounding strained. _Bugger._

"Good work. Alright, grab all that, and come over here so I can plug it into the model."

He moved away from her, walking over to the model board, and she took a deep breath to steady herself, scooped up her papers, and carried them over to him. She read the numbers off to him as he began filling in the spaces on the model, but between numbers, she was watching him. He was wearing that black jumper again, the one that clung to his form like a second skin. She could see the muscle in his arms and shoulders flex as he wrote; he was in truly good shape for a man of his age and occupation. "Alright, that's all of them?" he asked.

"Yep, that's it."

He capped the marker. "Good. Excellent work. Ah, here, before I forget. Connor brought in some new readings from the anomaly this weekend. I've got most of it worked out already, you want to finish looking over it for me?" he asked, holding out a sheaf of papers to her.

Sarah nodded, taking the pages. As she turned back around to start studying the numbers, she felt that prickling feeling of eyes on her. When she glanced around, he was giving her an unreadable look, head tilted slightly. "Something the matter?" she asked, proud that her voice came out so steady.

"No, nothing. Just thinking."

After several moments of silent working, she felt a warmth near her back, and then his rough voice spoke near her ear, "Sarah."

She nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around to find him standing _way_ in her personal space, near enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin, smell that woodsmoke-paper-and-spice scent of him. And the _look_ on his face...it was the look that she had only ever dreamed of, that dark-eyed look of most intimate desire. It was the kind of look usually reserved for the bedroom, between lovers, and it made her stomach tie itself in knots. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice coming out much smaller than she intended it to.

"I think you know what I'm doing, Sarah." He inched closer to her, and she tried to back up, only to have the hard edge of his desk dig into her back. "I may be a thick sod, but I'm not _that_ thick. I've seen you watching me the past few weeks. Hell, just the past few hours. I think you know very well what I'm doing," he repeated, taking another half-step, and _oh, God,_ now she could feel him, standing near enough their legs touched, but still, she leant away, holding the edge of the desk for balance. Surely this wasn't happening. Not to her. Things like this did not happen to her...right?

"Cutter," she whispered.

"Relax. It's alright," he murmured back, leaning into her personal space. Rough fingers curled around her chin, and he leant closer until his lips pressed to hers.

Sarah wanted to melt into him, and as it was, she felt a little lightheaded, because he was warm and solid and smelt _so good_. God, how long _had_ it been? Still, reason slapped her sharply in the face, and with a superhuman effort, she tore her lips from his, tipping her head to the side. "What about Jenny?" she gasped.

"Jenny knows."

 _Beg pardon?_ "I-I – She what?"

"Jenny. Knows," he repeated with emphasis. "She knows you like me, and she doesn't mind. She likes it. She likes _you."_ He leant in closer and nuzzled against her throat, pushing aside her hair. His rough stubble scraped against her skin, raising gooseflesh. "If you need proof, I can call her. But she already knows what we're doing."

"H-how?" Sarah whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open, gripping the edge of the desk tight enough her knuckles were white, arched back over the desk in an attempt to keep some measure of space between them. But all she was really doing was creating a more intimate position for them to be in, his body leant over hers. Still, she was no homewrecker, and she was _not_ about to ruin someone else's relationship. Even if it _was_ the object of her affection (and lust) that was coming onto her.

He gave a deep, rumbling chuckle, then grasped her chin once more and tilted her head, nodding towards the corner of his office. The CCTV camera, the one he always disabled, was on and recording. "Private feed. Little trick she picked up from Connor. She's watching us, and I'm willing to bet she's getting off on it, too. She likes to watch," he murmured in her ear, making shivers dance across her skin. A little gasp slipped out as he leant in closer and traced the edge of her jaw with his tongue. "Now, we can stop if you'd like. Or we could – "

"Fuck me," Sarah blurted. That was all she wanted right now. She didn't know if he was telling the truth or not, but she wanted him inside her, consequences be damned. "Oh, Christ, fuck me."

"Good lass." He reached around her and swept aside the clutter on his desk with one arm, then lifted her up to sit on the edge. Sarah opened her legs, his hips between her knees, and wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. He coaxed her lips apart with his own, tongue sliding against hers unhurried and confident. Good Lord, the man knew how to bloody kiss. She pushed her fingers into his thick hair, twisting the pale strands about her fingers, finding it just as silky as she imagined it to be.

Cutter broke from the kiss first, leaving her gasping, but he instead began trailing small, damp kisses down the line of her jaw to her neck, nibbling on her ear, sucking marks on her throat. "Door's not locked. Anyone could come in," she gasped, the last shred of her sanity protesting even as she tipped her head back so he could better reach.

"Well, it'll teach them to knock, won't it?" he replied.

His hands were at her waist, gliding up beneath the edge of her blouse. Tingling heat fizzled under her skin where his skin scraped against hers, warmth blossoming in her body wherever he touched. His hands were just as much a turn-on as the mouthwatering way he smelt; big, rough, callused, like the hands of a bricklayer, but also able to handle the most delicate of artefacts without breaking them. Sarah wriggled and squirmed in his hold, wanting more. His hands worked further beneath her blouse, and she whimpered in excitement as his strong, sure fingers brushed the bottom edge of her bra, just grazing against the lace.

To her utter dismay, he withdrew his hands, but just as quickly, he was opening her blouse, near popping the buttons in his haste. Sarah ran her own fingers along his shoulders and arms, down his sides and back. Not enough. Skin. She needed to touch skin. He became briefly distracted in opening her blouse as the black lace of her bra came into view, bending forward to nuzzle her breasts, rough stubble rasping on her flesh. She took the opportunity to grasp the hem of his jumper and begin pulling it up. He had to pull back and lift his arms so she could get it off, but as soon as the obstruction was gone, he was back at her.

Sarah took a moment to admire him, biting her lower lip. He was fair and freckled, but there were scars, too, a few on his arms, a particularly nasty one on his right side. An intricate tattoo was inked on his right shoulder, though she couldn't get a good look at it before his lips captured hers in another ferocious kiss, tongue exploring the depths of her mouth. His hands covered her breasts, pulling another groan from her lips. The fingers of his left crept around her side to her back, unhooking her bra and slipping it down off her shoulders. Cutter grinned like the cat what got the cream, bending his head to take the peak of one nipple in his mouth. A moan tore from her throat, the pull of his suckling sending bolts of pleasure from her breast down to her core along nerve endings she'd never known existed. His fingers mimicked the motions of his tongue at her other breast.

"C-Cutter – "

He bit her nipple, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough for her to _feel_ it. "I know you're not going to call me by my last name _now."_

Sarah flushed darker, but not from passion. She was so used to calling him either by his title or his last name that it was second-nature. "Nick," she corrected.

"Much better." He eased her backwards slightly, bowing her over and burying his head into her breasts. His lips closed on her nipple once again, sucking hard enough to hurt a little, but Sarah only moaned a little louder. Her fingers curled in his silky soft hair, gently trapping his head there; he moved from her left breast to her right, briefly dipping his tongue in the silken valley between them. "You taste good," he rumbled, warm breath skittering across her damp skin and making her shiver. "Mm, so very good. My Sarah, my sweet Sarah. That's what I should call you. Sweet Sarah."He licked a trail across her collarbone, dipping his tongue in the dip of her clavicle, sucking a dark mark in the hollow of her throat. And then his hand went straight down the front of her trousers.

She let out a yelp that sounded like a wounded puppy, though she'd never admit it, her legs coming up in surprise, knees pressed to his ribs. If she thought that his calluses felt good elsewhere, then they felt bloody incredible between her legs, stroking over her hypersensitive flesh. She let out a shuddering groan, arching her back as two fingers pushed inside her, sliding back and forth, the pad of his thumb circling her clit. "Nick...please," she moaned, hands grasping his upper arms tightly. "Please, more...more."

Easing his hand out of her knickers, he began undoing the snap of her trousers, pulling them down her legs and taking her knickers down with them. The sharp bite of cold metal on her bare skin made her shiver, but then he ran both hands up her thighs, chasing the shivers away. Returning the favour, she reached out and unbuckled his belt, pushing his jeans down past his hips before reaching into his shorts. _Holy fuck..._ He definitely wasn't a small man, that was for certain. His eyes darkened as she curled her fingers around his shaft, stroking up and down the length of his cock. Curling his hands behind her knees, he pulled her closer to the edge of the desk, nearer to him, and pushed her thighs further apart, standing between them. Her stomach was doing flips as she used the hand still on his cock to guide him into her; Cutter grasped her hips and pushed into her up to the hilt.

Sarah gave a soft, gasping cry, head falling back as she arched helplessly into him, fingers digging into his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, moaning. He was bigger than she thought, forcing her inner muscles to stretch to accommodate him, and the slight sting it caused, mingled in with her pleasure, made it all the better. "There's a good lass," he growled, voice low and rough. He eased out slowly, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in up to the hilt, drawing another cry from her lips. He did it again and again, repeating that same stroke, pulling out near all the way before thrusting back in deep and hard. And each time he did, he would hit that one _sweetspot,_ that one elusive chord of absolute pleasure. Only one man had done that before, and only the one time. Cutter had yet to miss it. Christ, no wonder Jenny came in so happy in the mornings if she was getting sex like _this_ at night.

The sweet, heated weight was building between her thighs, gathering low in her stomach, climbing towards that peak. Cutter gripped her hips and began thrusting harder, head buried in her neck. Sarah clutched her arms around him, fingers digging into his flesh. She could feel the hard muscle in his back flexing as he moved, the hair on his chest abrading against her oversensitive nipples. His breath shortened to gasping pants as he fought the need to come, wanting to bring her off first, and low mewling moans escaping from the depths of her throat. And suddenly it was all just too much, the summer lightning flicking through her veins settling between her thighs. Her hands raked down his back, leaving stinging red scratches, and settled on his arse, holding him in place as they both reached their climax. "Nick..." she gasped, breathless, dizzy, drowning in the overwhelming sensation swarming her.

"Sarah, my sweet Sarah," he moaned in a voice seemed torn from the depths of his chest, panting as her inner muscles rippled and tightened around him, drawing out his orgasm until he felt lightheaded.

When they could both properly breathe again and could see straight, she let her legs slip from his waist, releasing her grip on him. A little whimper escaped her lips as he pulled out, leaving a sensation of aching hollowness even as he hissed through his teeth at the harsh change. As they were straightening out their respective clothing, Sarah couldn't help but reach out and push a stray hank of Cutter's pale hair out of his face, brushing it back behind his ear. He looked up at her, slight surprise on his face, but then he smiled, straightened up, and pulled her in with an arm around her waist, kissing her softly and soundly on the lips.

The door to the office opened, and Sarah's head whipped around, freezing up like a rabbit in the headlamps. Because it was Jenny standing in the doorway, leaning one shoulder on the doorframe. Flushed and disheveled and sweaty, it was obvious what they had just been up to, but there was no anger in her face. Actually, Jenny looked a little flushed herself, a light in her eyes. Cutter smiled at her even as his arm curled snugly around Sarah's waist. The PR manager glided over to them. She didn't walk, she _glided._ Sarah remained rigid, uncertain as Jenny came to stand directly in front of her. Then, lifting her arms, she took Sarah's face in both manicured hands and kissed her deeply.

She had never kissed another woman before, she'd never really thought about another woman like that, either, but _oh, wow,_ wasn't that nice? Jenny's lips were warm and soft, and she tasted sweeter than Cutter did, like honey and smoke instead of spices. Sarah's lips parted under hers, and despite the unbelievable sex she'd just had, she felt a curl of arousal in her belly as Jenny's tongue brushed softly across hers. Then she remembered what Cutter had said, about Jenny liking to watch, the private CCTV feed, and a sudden image of Jenny, watching her and Cutter shag on his desk in his office, getting off on it as she touched herself. Heat flushed her body from head to toe at _that_ thought.

When Jenny pulled back, Sarah swayed a little on her feet, supported by Cutter's arm around her waist. "Now," said the Scotsman in a low, husky voice, "shall we take this back to my place and a lovely big bed for the three of us?"

"That's up to her," Jenny replied, looking to Sarah. "You don't have to, either. You've got the choice. It doesn't have to be the three of us. I can share. Nick doesn't mind." Her hand wrapped around Cutter's, lightly stroking her thumb over his knuckles.

Sarah looked between the two of them...and grinned. "Let's get a move on before Lester catches us," she answered, and they both returned her grin.

"Dr. Page, I do believe this is the start of something quite wonderful," Cutter said as Jenny wrapped an arm of her own around Sarah's waist, holding the Egyptologist between them.

As they walked out of the ARC towards the car park, towards the rest of their night together, Sarah had to agree.


End file.
